Don't Stop Now (16 page)

The person turns around.

And it's her.

It's Penny.

“Lil?” she asks, excited. She runs over and stops in front of me. Her awkward arms say she wants to give or get a hug, but that's not quite how I'm feeling at the moment. “Your hair looks so cool! Ethan said you called. I tried to call you back, but it went straight to voicemail. Did you get my message?”

I'm still in semi-shock that Penny is standing in front of me, and the batty lady and her Elvis tour are starting to freak me out. “Can we get out of here?” I ask Penny. “That woman is giving us the evil eye,” which she is, literally, by staring at us and pointing the devil hand sign in our direction.

Penny waves who I assume must be Ethan out of the tour group, and we plod our way down the stairs and outside before saying anything else.

“So, oh my god, you came here for me?” Penny asks us, and it's like she's not herself. I've never seen her this naturally happy. Real smile. No paranoid side glances. Even her clothes have turned happy: pink capri jeans and a yellow tank. I don't have time to answer her before she says, “Oh! This is Ethan. These are my friends from home, Lil and Josh.”

Josh shakes Ethan's hand, and it's the first time I get a look at Ethan. He's tallish, not quite as tall as Josh, but taller than me. Sandy brown hair swayed over his forehead. Sparkly turquoise eyes and a nose that ends in a flat tip. Undeniably and beyond cute. I can feel my cheeks warm when he shakes my hand—great eye contact—and says, “Nice to meet you.” Way to go, Penny.

I turn to her, to get the sperm whale in the room (much larger than an elephant) out of the way, and directly ask, “Are we still the only people who know where you are?”

She makes a stupid cutesy face. “Yes. I mean, besides Ethan of course.”

Next to me is a free newspaper box, some real estate junk mag, so I take one out, roll it up, and proceed to whack Penny, hard, in the head. Not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to let her know I'm pissed at the position she's put me in.

“Ow!” she whimpers. “What was that for?”

“Oh, let's see. That one was for your obliviousness. This one”—I hit her again—“is for your dad calling me.”
Smack
. “Your mom.”
Whack
. “The cops.” Penny starts to block the magazine but drops her hands in surprise at the mention of the police.

“The police really called you?” she asks, dumbfounded.

“Yeah.
And
the FBI.” I go for an FBI smack, but she manages to block that one. So I hit her hand, which as a result, causes Penny to smack herself in the face. Josh chuckles.

“Wait,” Ethan speaks to Penny. “I thought your parents knew you were here. I mean, you used my phone to call them.”

Penny makes a guilty face and says, “Pretended to?”

“You really didn't think anyone would follow up on this, seeing as you faked. Your. Own. Kidnapping?” I punctuate the question for maximum emphasis. Will she get it?

“What?” Ethan chokes. “Are you freakin' kidding me? That is messed up.” He turns to me.

“Yeah,” I agree.

“I'm innocent.” Ethan throws his hands up in surrender. “I thought she was just stopping here before she visits her grandma in Vancouver.”

“Do you even have a grandmother in Vancouver, Penny?” I ask her.

“Possibly? Do we ever really know who our family is?” She tries to get philosophical on us.

“You are so weird,” I point out, but I can't help but smile. It's pretty amazing to see Penny joking. Will that all go away if she calls home and turns herself in? Will Penny turn back into Cinderella before the fairy godmother paid her a visit? Am I her fairy godmother? Is Ethan?

While I battle with my crappy fairytale metaphor, Ethan makes my decision for me. “Here.” He shoves his phone at Penny. “Call your parents now so they don't call the coast guard or something.” The coast guard. Ethan's kind of funny.

“I'm not ready. I don't know what I'd say. What are they going to say? Are they going to be mad at me?” The old tragic Penny pops her sad head into view. I don't want that.

“How about you and I talk a little, and if it's okay with you, Ethan, Josh borrows your phone”—Josh looks at me with a face that says,
Do I have to?
—“he needs to call his dad.”

I watch Josh's expression shift from annoyance to resignation when he takes the phone from Ethan. “Thanks, man, I'll only be a minute.” Josh steps away from the three of us to gain some privacy. Penny and I walk away from Ethan and sit down on a nearby building's stoop.

Penny is silent, so I start. “So. How's it going?” I try to be casual, hoping that my lack of pressing will inspire Penny to spill her life's story, complete with actual facts and not just what she thinks I want to hear.

“Okay,” is all she says.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Which part?”

“I don't know. Run away? Fake it all? Tell me and only me?” My voice goes up in exasperation.

“That's a pretty long story,” Penny warns.

“You can tell me the Spark Notes version.”

So she does. And in the end, it's even simpler than Spark Notes. Penny was in a hole, and she needed to get out. She couldn't break up with Gavin because she loves him too much, but she couldn't stay with him either. She doesn't explain, and I don't press. She couldn't keep doing what her parents expected of her, but she couldn't tell them no because she never has. The only way out was to get out. But she didn't want anyone to be mad at her, so she staged the kidnapping. And she told me because if she didn't tell someone, she thought no one would even know she was gone.

“People love you, Penny. Your parents. Your bratty sister. Gavin, for better or for worse. How would they not notice you were gone?”

“I just pictured this big homecoming, you know? Hugs and tears and balloons.”

“Balloons?” I laugh.

“Yeah. You know. Those really big, expensive shiny ones from the grocery store. I always wanted a bouquet of those. I told Gavin once, but he told me that was retarded.”

“Well, it is just a little.” I nudge her with my shoulder.

“I'd settle for just one balloon.” She sighs.

“Sorry to say, I don't think you'll get one when your parents find out the truth.”

“Do I really need to tell them the truth?” She seems so scared again. So the way I used to know her.

“That's up to you. As long as you let them know you're okay, then I'm out of trouble, I guess. You could have given me a police record, you know.”

“Damn. Sorry, Lil. But thank you.” Penny sniffs a couple times and glances up at me.

I nod a
you're welcome
. I want to tell her thank you, too. For what she's done for me. But if I get into that, then Penny's story seems less important. So I let her thank me. It's something I needed to hear.

 

About ten minutes pass, when Josh and Ethan walk over to us. Josh thrusts the phone at Penny, and asks, “Ready to spill?”

“No,” she answers, but she takes the phone from him and begins dialing. The three of us watch her with anticipation, and I hear a collective breath when Penny ekes out an apprehensive “Mom?”

Ethan, Josh, and I walk away so she can tell her truth. Or not. But as long as they know she's okay, I'm in the clear.

“So…,” Ethan begins awkwardly. “You guys are Penny's friends from home?”

“Yep.” I nod. “And you're”—I pause, not quite sure where to go with this—“Penny's long-distance—”

Ethan interrupts, “Friend. We're friends. She's been sleeping in my sister's room while she visits.”

“Cool. Cool,” is all Josh can say. I want to ask him what went down with his dad, but it doesn't seem right in front of someone he barely knows. It's hard enough for Josh to talk about it in front of me, his, well, what am I exactly at this point?

We observe Penny's conversation from a distance, from guilty confession to apology, from insolence to tears, and finally to defeat. I look at Josh for reactions during the call, and he gives me Quest Completed fist pumps. I look at Ethan, and he gives me parental nods of approval. When the conversation's over, we're all exhausted from the enormous weight that's been lifted.

Penny made a deal with her parents to come home and get counseling while she attends a nearby community college. Once she feels better adjusted, she can think about going away to school full-time. And her parents will hire an actual babysitter for Annabelle from now on so that Penny can focus on school and her issues. Those issues, which she admitted may have something to do with Gavin, might mean talking to the police. But her parents assured her they will support her 100 percent. “I don't know if I believe them,” Penny says, with the familiar fear and sadness hiding behind her eyes. She's allowed to stay in Portland for a few more days, then she has to fly back, when she will meet with the police to clarify that she was not, indeed, kidnapped. If she comes clean, her parents assured her, she won't have to worry about charges pressed against her. “For eluding the law,” she explains.

So that's it. Neatly wrapped up? Not exactly. Penny's parents may just be giving her the balloons and tears she wants now, but who knows if they'll be this forgiving when she gets home. Is it my problem anymore? Was it ever my problem? I look at Penny, at Ethan, at beautiful Josh, and I realize that whatever happens with Penny, she'll figure it out. Life is a big, long journey, with a whole bunch of bumps and twists, and freaky roadside attractions that, no matter what, lead us somewhere. I like it best how Buckaroo Banzai said it in another late-night movie: “Wherever you go, there you are.”

Here we are.

We pile into Ethan's car, a newer Honda Civic with a license plate holder that reads,
FOLLOW ME TO THE LIBRARY—READ
. “It's my mom's car,” he explains. “She's a librarian.”

Our first goal is to find the Eurosport. Once it's located, we'll reward ourselves with coffee.

Ethan drives us up and down one-way streets, until they begin to look familiar. After about twenty minutes, the Eurosport pops into view. We erupt into applause and decide to leave it until later, Ethan writing down the cross streets on an old receipt and stuffing it into the glove compartment. I wonder if he has any pictures in there. And what the heck it means if he does.

Ethan takes us to what he calls “a Portland must,” Rimsky-Korsakoffeehouse. From the front, you can barely tell that it's a restaurant, the facade looks so much like the houses nearby. Inside Ethan explains that some of the tables are trick tables, so we stake ourselves out at a normal table and watch other unsuspecting customers look confused as their tables slowly rise or shrink back into the wall. Next, Ethan practically orders Penny and me to go to the bathroom, so we do, and we're in awe of the odd beauty. Legs dangle from the ceiling as though we're viewing them from underwater, and a mermaid offers us toilet paper. Every bit of this place is art.

Our coffee arrives, complete with requisite surly waiter, and it's then that I discover how much Ethan and I have in common. We both have a fascination with historical dead people (which, Josh points out, are “all dead people. Because, if you're dead, you're history.” “Shut up” is all I can think of to retort). We both wrote for our high school literary magazines. And the most random item of all is that we'll both be starting at Winthorp College in the fall.

“That's crazy,” I say for the umpteenth time over some mango cake dessert. 'Cause it is. Coming all the way to Portland to find a friend who faked her own kidnapping, spending all this time in a car with Josh to finally give me more than just best-friend status, finding several people who knew several people named Ethan, which didn't even matter because we found the right one without using our leads, and that the actual, correct Ethan is this really cute, nice, interesting guy who's going to the same small college as me in the fall?

“Pretty crazy,” he agrees. All Josh can do is nod dully in agreement. Do I detect a note of jealousy? I wonder what Josh sees in Ethan? What do I see? And I know what it is. Ethan represents my future, wherever he fits into it. And Josh, well, he most certainly was my past, and is still definitely my present. But can he really fit into that place in my future?

When the check arrives, Josh declares, “Our work here is done.” I know he means the restaurant, but the statement is fitting for this whole journey. We found Penny. Josh got the girl. But for how long?

Ethan offers Josh some money, and Josh waves his hand away. “It's on me.”
It's on your dad
, I think to say, but it's not as though I have any right to out him. I haven't spent a penny of my bat mitzvah reserves.

We step outside into a cool summer night. Portland seems like a great city, somewhere I'd like to visit under different circumstances. But Josh is right: Our work here is done, and I'm ready to start heading back, to drive our way out of limbo and into our future.

“You guys can crash at my house tonight,” Ethan suggests, but we politely decline.

“The old highway's a-callin',” Josh tells him, without me having to say anything. Good ol' Josh and the good ol' road.
Ye Ol' Faithful
, I think, and laugh to myself at the memory. So many miles ago.

As expected, Ethan finds our car without a problem. There's a ticket on the windshield, but Josh just pulls it off and tosses it on the ground. “It's another state,” he explains. “What are they going to do? Come after me?”

“You can at least throw it in the trash,” I scold, picking it up off the street.

“Actually, there's a recycling can right over there,” Ethan points out. So there is. Josh looks annoyed at being reprimanded by not one, but two people. He rushes through his goodbyes to Ethan and Penny with a “See you guys. Thanks for keeping Penny warm,” and he waits for me in the car.

I shake Ethan's hand, such an unnatural gesture for me, but I thought contact would be nice and didn't want to overstep with a hug. We exchange phone numbers and email addresses on more receipts from his wallet so we can find each other again before school starts in the fall. For some reason, I don't think I'll have trouble finding Ethan again if I'm meant to. Considering the fatefulness of finding him the first time.

Penny watches me and Ethan, tears pooling under her eyes. I don't know if she's sad to see me go, or if the contact exchange solidifies the fact that there is, indeed, an impending future.

“Have a safe trip,” I say to her.

“You, too,” she chokes out. “I'll call you when I get home?” she asks, eyes like saucers ready to overflow with tear-drop tea.

“Maybe you should just wait until I call you. I'd sort of like this thing to blow over with your parents and the cops and the FBI….” I stop myself from saying something else about how I'll call once she's got a better handle on reality, but that seems pretty cold. And I don't know if I even feel that way about Penny anymore. Without Penny, I wouldn't be where I'm standing right now. No matter how roundabout it was to get here.

We hug goodbye, and I slide into the passenger side of the Eurosport. Ethan and Penny watch as we drive off, so we wave and they wave, and then we're gone.

When we're several blocks away, Josh pulls over. “I wanted to talk to you before we started driving, but it seemed like they were expecting a dramatic exit.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Josh puts his arm up on my seat, an invitation to be closer. I hesitate, but then think, why not? Right now is right now, and right now it would be nice to sink into Josh's strong shoulder.

“So where are we going?” I ask.

“I was kind of wondering the same thing,” he responds, clearing some strands of hair away from my eyes. I don't look at him, but I take in his delicious smell. We're still nowhere, I think. Even though we are headed back home, we still have a journey to get there. So I kiss his cheek gently. “Why don't we just go?” I say. “Because we're going to get where we're going no matter what.” I try to be mystical and vague, but—

“Yeah. That doesn't really make sense.” Josh smiles and shakes his head.

“Not so much,” I agree, and while I try and formulate something more clever, Josh leans in to kiss me. It's not a long kiss, but it takes effect on me like a temporary love potion. “I wonder what it would be like if we just drove forever? Like you said, going where the road takes us, living off your father's credit card?”

“My dad says I have one week left on the credit card, and then he's cutting it up,” Josh tells me. I'm surprised at how he doesn't sound that mad.

“That's still a week, right?”

“Yeah. It is.” He smiles at me, the most melting grin. “He also said he'd pay for a month in a studio, a real studio, so I can record a demo. He'll even help me with some connections his friends have. But I still have to get a job until something real happens.”

“Something real will happen. It's not like you're going to fake your own kidnapping, right?”

“Yeah, who would be stupid enough to do that?”

“How about for now we just pretend that the future doesn't exist, and we are only where we are right now, and if we stop going wherever it is that we may be headed, that the future is actually going to get here sooner rather than later.”

Josh pauses before he laughs out a “What?”

“All I'm saying is, start the car, Josh.”